


both of us will be alone again

by firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Drama, Insecurity, M/M, Monsta X Bingo, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Psychic Bond, References to Depression, Romance, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9543272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin/pseuds/firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin
Summary: “Every time we got close he ran away. I don’t want that again. If I let him in, if Ifeelit like I did, like we did before ― he’ll leave. He’ll leave, and both of us will be alone again.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As if I didn't have enough fics to finish already, I'm participating at this round of MX Bingo, level 2! Yaaay <3  
> But I don't plan on doing very long stories, and most of my entries are already started? So, yay².
> 
> Wonheonki is on my rare pair hell, sORRY NOT SORRY, SUFFER WITH ME.  
> Also, just to warn you: there are a lot of mentions about water/ocean/waves, and sometimes drowning. Be careful, please! :3  
> (On another note: rating may change, depending on how I decide to finish the last chapter, but I'm not sure about that.)
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! \O
> 
>  **Bingo tile:** Rare Pairing.  
>  Plot _slightly_ based on the concept of Sense8.

The first impression comes like a wave.

It's gradative, growing as it comes closer to the beachfront.

Kihyun would compare it to the feeling of being underwater for too long: there are sounds and vibrations and shades of colors and light, but everything is muffled, the tip of your fingers numb. There's a moment of peace, only static in your ears ― and then your lungs start to demand more and more oxygen, your organism gradatively begging for a change, until you have no other choice but give in.

_ Survival. _ It’s the only thing it matters.

_ Survival _ ― the instinct only talks louder when you’re already drowning.

And, well.

Kihyun’s never been good at following his own intuition.

  
  


Hoseok’s the first.

Seven years old, talkative, with an incredible tendency to run randomly around and end up hurting himself. Hoseok, however, doesn’t cry ― he never cries. Kihyun does, sometimes ― when he scraps his knees or his elbows, or when his older brothers are being mean.

They don’t have much in common. Kihyun’s quiet, the type of child who, once left alone to play, really alone or not, doesn’t cause any problem, doesn’t seek trouble, finds something with what he can distract himself and gets lost inside his own world with facility. Hoseok, on the other side, is restless ― he likes to play soccer and basketball, he likes activities that make him run, of things that make him waste his energy and take his mind fully.

Kihyun doesn’t like him; or, at least, pretends that he doesn’t like him. Hoseok’s loud and puts an end to almost all Kihyun’s moments of peace with a smile missing a milk tooth, eyes closed in two crescents, hair black and messy it doesn’t matter what his mother does to keep it down. Kihyun always ignores him, preferring to keep his attention on his action figures, mumbling quietly to himself all the stories and moves and talks between his favorite superheroes and the villains they’ll fight.

It’s something with what Kihyun uses a lot of his time: stories. He likes it, and he doesn’t know exactly why. He likes plannings and adventures, the ideas always growing inside his mind and making him imagine millions and millions of scenes in which he can put them in practice.

“I like your stories.” Hoseok admits, one day, after hearing him conclude an adventure with the Red Hood and Batman. “They’re always nice.”

This takes Kihyun by surprise. Of course, he loves his own ideas, and he’s very proud of them, but no one ever paid them much attention to it ― professors always say he’s very creative, not always with a good tone, and his classmates usually don’t have the patience to hear him talk about and explain  _ why, _ exactly, it’d be an incredible adventure if they decided to follow one of his stories to play pretend. His mother doesn’t like it ― she says his imagination will distract him from his real duties, and that he should use this time to do something useful, as his homework or house-related things ―, and his brothers use to mock him about it. His father doesn’t have the habit of being at home for long enough to hear him, and Kihyun doesn’t think he’d care anyway.

No one ever told Kihyun that his stories are good, or nice, or anything ― Hoseok’s the first, and the warm feeling the praise brings inside his chest is comforting; he even stops playing for a moment.

Kihyun would like to say something in return, but nothing comes to his mind.

“I draw.” Hoseok offers, noticing how the younger’s trying to find something to tell him. Kihyun mumbles a brief  _ ‘thank you’ _ to him, without lifting his eyes up to look at him.

“I like your drawings.” he says in return, because his mother always told him he should be gentle when he’s praised, and return it the same way.

But, in that moment, the affirmation is a lie.

Kihyun’s never seen Hoseok’s drawings.

  
  


Jooheon’s a quiet boy.

Kihyun meets him at first when he’s ten, in a playground. Jooheon’s sitting in one of the swings, eyes on the ground, fingers securely attached to the chains, feet swinging back and forth a bit childishly, legs still not big enough to reach the ground. Jooheon’s nine years old, doesn’t have any brothers, and doesn’t like to play with other children.

“Do you think the clouds are made of cotton candy?”

Kihyun has his eyes in the sky, lying on the grass. Hoseok’s sitting under the tree, far enough to enjoy the shadows, close enough to hear them and opine if he feels the need to.

“No.” Kihyun says, without turning to any of them in special. “They look like smoke.”

“Mom say they are.” Jooheon shrugs. “Cotton candy, I mean. Not smoke.”

“And the moon is what? Cheese?” Kihyun asks, a bit sarcastic.

Jooheon doesn’t seem to understand the feeling.

“Yes.”

“I think they’re made of sugar.” Hoseok butts in, without taking his eyes off the notebook in his lap. “And the moon is a potato.”

“Cheese.”

“Potato!”

“None of them!”

Hoseok shows off his tongue to Kihyun. Jooheon keeps swinging, ignoring the discussion that starts between the older boys, his eyes focused on the sky.

 

(When Seokwon asks Kihyun whom he was talking with and the younger turns to show him Jooheon, the swings are empty, and there’s no one under the tree’s shadow. Against all instincts ― and ignoring the heavy feeling inside his chest, pleading him to keep quiet about it ―, Kihyun tells him the truth.

Seokwon laughs, ruffles his hair and tells Kihyun he’s too old to still have imaginary friends.

Kihyun has no idea what he’s talking about.)

  
  


Hoseok’s drawings are beautiful, indeed.

Kihyun still can’t see them, not  _ really see them, _ but he knows they are. He  _ feels _ they are. Kihyun can trace the lines in his own notebooks, and make the same sketches the other does, and smile when a miniature of himself or Jooheon (Hoseok rarely draws himself) shows up in the corner of his homework ― Jooheon has dimples as big as oceanic trenches and eyes that shine like two shooting stars, Kihyun with high cheekbones and tiny hands always making ‘peace’, Hoseok with eyes big as hazelnuts, chocolate brown and friendly and a cartoon smile on his face.

“Why am I always the small one?” Kihyun doesn’t understand, and complains about it. “Jooheon’s the maknae!”

“He’s still taller than you.” Hoseok plays, and Kihyun frowns in anger.

“I’m not small!”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“No!”

Jooheon giggles at their argument.

“Can you show me another story?” he asks, a tiny smile on his face, dimples showing off for the whole world.

“I’ll write.” Kihyun crosses his arms. “I’ll write, and it’ll be the most awesome story you’ve ever read in your life, and Hoseok won’t be allowed to even put his eyes on it.”

“Hey!” Hoseok protests. “That’s not fair!”

“Of course it is. It's my story.” Kihyun shakes his head. “I do the rules.”

“You’re bossy.”

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

In the end, Kihyun  _ writes _ the story instead of telling it, and Hoseok has the chance to read it ― not because the younger lets him, but because the images of the pages go through Jooheon’s head, and he can’t get them off, repeating words and expressions again and again and again until the scenes make sense to him, fitting them in the puzzle to make the whole picture.

“Your handwriting is a mess.”

“And you’re rude,”

“I like his handwriting.”

Jooheon’s comment is made quietly, in a low tone, almost as if he didn’t want to be heard. Kihyun and Hoseok share an inexplicable wave of sadness and Kihyun knows that, if Jooheon was close enough to any of them, they’d hug him right now ― even if Kihyun’s basically a stranger and Hoseok a walking disaster.

“You can stay with it.” Kihyun mumbles. “The story, I mean.”

He doesn’t usually give his stories to anyone ― he doesn’t usually repeats stories, unless he’s telling one and it sounds particularly good. He’s not exactly a friendly person either, so he can’t say it was just from the goodness in his soul. Kihyun only doesn’t like to see someone  _ sad. _ It makes his eyes burn.

Hoseok moves a bit, uncomfortable.

“For real?” Jooheon traces his fingers through the empty pages of his own notebook, slowly, almost embarrassed. “No one ever gave me anything before.”

“I can ― uh ― I can draw it, if you want.” Hoseok offers. “Make comics out of Ki’s stories for you.”

“It’d be cool.” Kihyun thinks about it. “We could make our own library.”

Silence. They never talked about that subject before. Kihyun’s not even  _ sure _ he wants to meet them. Hoseok has enough energy for all three of them, and Jooheon doesn’t get uncomfortable around them like he does with other kids, but Kihyun never thought about it.

“Yeah.” Jooheon mumbles. “It’d be ― it’d be nice. I ―”

“Kihyun? Is there someone with you?”

Hoseok and Jooheon shut up. Kihyun sighs. His mother opens the door and watches him, alone in his study table.

“I thought you were talking with someone.”

Kihyun stares at her, expressionless. She stares back, and then her eyes find the open notebook over the table, and her features harden.

“Those stories again, Kihyun?” she walks in and takes the notebook. “I already told you I don’t like that. You finished your homework?”

“Uhum.”

“Then go to sleep! You still have classes tomorrow.”

Kihyun  _ doesn’t want _ to sleep ― and has absolutely no intention of doing it ―, but nods in affirmation anyway. His mother gives him a last look, still with the notebook, and wishes him a good night before getting out of the room. Once the door is closed, he lies his head against the table and groans in frustration.

“I hate this place.”

Hoseok sighs.

“Hate is a strong word.” he says.

“I’m sorry.” Jooheon mumbles.

Kihyun is, too, but decides not to answer.

  
  


It’s surprisingly  _ easy _ to get used to living with the other two boys. Jooheon’s not exactly talkative, and Hoseok, although always restless, knows when he needs to keep quiet.

They don’t discuss about Kihyun’s parents’ requirements, always absurd, getting worse as the time passes ― or how he pretends not to care about the fact that no one approves his choices or tries to support him. They don’t talk about Hoseok’s anxiety when he needs to deal with people in general ― or how he finds stupid reasons to fight in school, because then he can get back home and help his mother with work. They don’t think about the meds on Jooheon’s bedside table ― or how, at night, he cries himself to sleep, suffocating sobs and tears against his pillow.

They discuss, however, about Kihyun’s stories. If he wants it or not, it doesn’t matter, Hoseok and Jooheon are always opinating and expressing their respectives opinions about the curse he’s giving to his plots or ideas, talking about it with ease, sometimes even going as far as giving him alternatives they think would better fit with everything. Kihyun pretends he doesn’t like it, argues and, sometimes (what can be considered almost 98% of the time), finds rude answers to give them both. Sadly to him, nor Hoseok nor Jooheon seem to mind ― they’re fast to unite and bury him under even more ideas and plans for the future stories, fast to help him finding words and synonyms and antonyms and phrases in a coherent way and meet the context of what he wants to express. Kihyun won’t ever admit it, but he  _ likes _ their tentatives to cheer him up and make him keep writing, because, without these two, he doesn’t have any idea how he’d be keeping up with everything and how he’d follow what he really wants.

They also talk about Hoseok’s drawings. Talk about lines and colors and shadows, about characters and eyes, forms and shapes. Kihyun likes to watch him drawing, likes the pride that swells inside his chest and fills his veins every time Hoseok says that they ―  _ they, _ Kihyun and Jooheon,  _ and no one else _ ― are the principal reason why he still didn’t give up completely in a possible artistic career.

Jooheon, however, is a side case. He doesn’t sing, he doesn’t draw, doesn’t write. Although both Hoseok and Kihyun know he can do it, the boy doesn’t really  _ want _ to share that kind of information. Maybe not because he doesn’t care ― they  _ know _ he care, sometimes even too much ―, but because he  _ can’t. _ He doesn’t have the will, the desire to do so, he doesn’t want it.

And then Kihyun writes, Hoseok draws, and Jooheon watches.

And, sometimes, Kihyun narrates, Hoseok makes the sound effects, and Jooheon laughs.

 

(Jooheon’s laugh sounds like spring.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any question/request/desire to talk about anything, you can contact me here, [ tumblr](http://firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin.tumblr.com/), [ twitter](https://twitter.com/notmadetobeheld) or [ curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notmadetobeheld) :3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kihyun’s not crazy. He’s not crazy. He _can’t_ be crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not really sure how to finish this, so, the tags didn't change \o  
> Enjoy! :3

Hoseok kisses a guy for the first time when he’s sixteen.

Hyungwon’s tall, gorgeous, has the face of a model.

Kihyun hates him at first sight. Jooheon doesn’t say anything.

“You’re an idiot.”

Hoseok has confused eyes and an expression of hurt.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, honestly lost.

Kihyun sighs, covers his head with his blanket.

“I don’t want you to do anything.”

Jooheon doesn’t say anything ― _anything_ ― during the next weeks.

  


Hoseok smiles more around Hyungwon.

Oh, no, wait. He doesn’t _smile_ ― he _laughs._

Kihyun hates to admit that he _likes_ how it sounds. He hates to admit that Hoseok’s laugh makes a weird feeling bloom inside his chest, his heart makes a funny thing inside his ribcage, his lips trembling to make a smile of his own.

Kihyun _doesn’t like_ Hyungwon, but he definitely likes how happy Hoseok is when he’s around the other boy.

Even if it means their talks get less and less frequent ― and that Jooheon’s not a part of them anymore.

  


“Mom, why are we here?”

Hoseok’s as confused as Kihyun. Jooheon’s on his own room, hidden under his bed, under at least two layers of blankets ― ignoring them, just as he’s been doing in the last two months.

The eyes of Kihyun’s mother ― bird eyes, as the maknae of the group insisted in saying ― are full of worry. She holds her son’s hand more fiercely, caresses his hair, looks at the clock hanging on the yellow wall of the small waiting room.

“It’s only an appointment, dear.” she promises, and caresses her son’s hair one more time.

“Are we going to see a doctor?” Kihyun frowns, confused.

He doesn’t remember ever seeing a place so curious before. Being honest, he doesn’t remember ever seeing a _clinic_ before; of all the times he was ever sick, his mother always got him directly to an ER or treated him at home, with meds his grandmother recommended.

“Why are you in a clinic, Ki?” Hoseok butts in, eyes curious and worried; he stops drawing to hear them, to dedicate his attention fully to the younger.

“What’s wrong?”

“They think you’re crazy.” Jooheon murmurs, lowly, almost too quiet to be heard, and Kihyun tenses up.

“Mom?”

Her eyes are sorrowful. Hoseok’s rigid, eyes blown wide.

“There’s nothing wrong, dear, it’s ― it’s just an appointment.”

The fear that fills Kihyun’s heart has nothing to do with the answer. He doesn’t know where it comes from ― he only knows it’s there, under his skin, crawling inside his veins and between his guts. He swallows dry, wraps his fingers around his mother’s and focuses his eyes on the ground, feeling nervous.

“Ki?” Hoseok calls, quietly.

“Lie.” Jooheon says, again. “You need to lie. They’ll say you’re crazy.”

Kihyun _knows._ He knows Jooheon’s right. He _understands._

But Kihyun doesn’t lie ― he _can’t_ lie.

He comes back home with a medical prescription, Hoseok’s worried, and Jooheon’s silent once more.

  


_Sentiens_ is the name they give it.

 _Sentiens_ ― because he shares and receives in the same way, emotions and ideas and thoughts and dreams.

 _Sentiens_ in the way Hoseok’s eyes are warm, even if Kihyun’s never seen them, in the way his lips are pink and his laugh is melodious, able to make Kihyun’s hands shake and his heart too big for his ribcage.

 _Sentiens_ in the manner Jooheon’s hands shake, how his heart beats wildly, strong inside his chest, and his smiles are able to light up the whole room, warming them up inside.

 _Sentiens._ There’s a name. _S-e-n-t-i-e-n-s._

Kihyun’s not crazy.

He’s not crazy.

He _can’t_ be crazy.

  


In two weeks, Hoseok breaks up with Hyungwon.

In two weeks, Jooheon gets back to talking to them.

And the butterflies never leave Kihyun’s stomach.

Just as they never left Jooheon’s heart.

  


Jooheon doesn’t have friends.

Kihyun doesn’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s a combination of a lot of things ― how he walks, how he talks, how his mother doesn’t care about PDA. Maybe it has nothing to do with any of it. Jooheon gets bothered, Kihyun would also be, but there’s nothing he can do about it because, in the end, it’s not his choice to do.

Jooheon has a hard time trying to get out of bed during morning ― and evening, and, sometimes, even during nighttime. Kihyun feels bad, and tries to soothe it with words; sometimes sweet, fighting to calm down the storm inside his mind, sometimes simply desperate, trying to get rid of the heavy feeling inside his chest. Hoseok draws ― draws flowers, roses, chrysanthemums, violets; draws in paper and frames and his own skin, strong lines and soft lines and endless lines that cross each other and overlap each other and make a pattern of colors and lights and shadows pleasant to eyes and soul.

Jooheon likes to stare at Hoseok’s drawings. He likes to opine, and ask him things, and trace the same lines on his own skin with a pen or a paintbrush or his own fingers and whatever it is that it’s close to him. He likes to hear Kihyun’s stories, again and again and again, and that someone sings him to sleep. Kihyun doesn’t sing, and neither does Hoseok, but, as inspiration to an artist, Jooheon has his own melody, his own station and tone, and they follow him the same way a river to its riverbed.

Kihyun doesn’t know exactly when it happens. He doesn’t know if it was something gradative, if it was repentine, or if it was always under his skin, waiting for the right moment to blow up. He doesn’t know and, to certain extent, he doesn’t even care.

They share ideas and memories and, sometimes, fears.

Before Kihyun has any idea of what’s happening, even their dreams seem the same.

Jooheon has his eyes in the stars and Hoseok has a heart of gold and Kihyun doesn’t know who he really is.

  


Jooheon’s twenty when he and Hoseok meet for the first time.

It wasn’t a premeditated encounter. It wasn’t something decided, it wasn’t something discussed ― but they meet, and, int that moment, everything changes.

They hug and they kiss and they hold on to each other. Jooheon smiles like he never did before, his eyes glowing, his cheeks crimson red, sweet dimples showing off in a childish manner. And Hoseok has pride ― Hoseok has pride, happiness, Hoseok has abundant love to give and to share.

Kihyun doesn’t feel he has the right to interrupt that happiness ― even if it means he’ll leave them behind forever.

Hoseok doesn’t agree with his decision.

“Who’s being an idiot now?” he asks, sadness in his words, in his features, in the tears that well up in his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

Jooheon cries.

Kihyun swallows down his apologies, the sorrow, the pain ― he keeps quiet.

They deserve each other.

They deserve that happiness in the arms of each other, because he can’t offer it, he can’t share it. Kihyun _doesn’t want it_ ― and maybe that’s a lie, but he knows that, if he repeats if enough, maybe, maybe one day he can believe it.

(Kihyun feels as if winter overtook him inside.)

  


A year goes by. 365 days in which not only Hoseok, but Jooheon as well, tries to make Kihyun get back, tries to make Kihyun talk, argue, write ― because words, when not said, can suffocate him, but words not written accumulate perpetually, breaking each other and parting themselves and promising that never, until he frees them, he’ll have any vestige of peace.

But hope’s something cruel, and Kihyun’s stubborn, and everything that exists between them is silence.

 

(He stops taking the meds.)

 

Two years. They stop trying so hard.

Hoseok still tries ― he searches him in strange faces and controlled laughs, he searches him inside his own chest and reflexes of everything that can reflect him, searching for a brief vision of brown hair, of dimples in cheekbones, of the dark eyes of the grumpy boy whose words spread and break and hurt him inside.

The view from Jooheon’s side of the bed is beautiful. Not the type to warm up the heart, not the type to take away his breath and make the world seem so big, so full of life. It shows only other windows ― curved or straight, from a cream wall with yellow lights and, many times, smiley people that hug and kiss and love each other. Sometimes he asks himself if having Kihyun at his side would make him love it a bit more. Sometimes, when Hoseok’s drawing, he asks for combinations of colors and flowers that would never fail to make Kihyun smile and admit, unwillingly, that there is certain beauty in the way the artist draws.

Hoseok always comes back home at the end of the day. Always wraps his arms around Jooheon and lets the boy hide against his chest, and he sings. Sings alone, because there’s no one else to help him, and rocks him back and forth with care, softly, so softly, so then the fragile bird bones won’t break, so then what they have won’t break under his fingers, so then Jooheon will have a safe spot, so then they’ll have something.

Sometimes it’s enough.

Sometimes it doesn’t get even close to that.

 

(When autumn comes and cold days make him think of sweet words and shared happiness, Kihyun has the desire to make part of it.)

 

Three years. Kihyun’s promoting his first book ― and there’s no one else with whom share the happiness that beats its wings inside his chest, satisfied, excited, ready to go far away.

Sometimes, he looks at the skies and asks himself: _what if?_ What if he’d stayed? What if he’d let them love him? Because Kihyun loves them. He loves them with everything he has, with everything he is, and maybe to him that wasn’t enough, but none of them has ever demanded anything, none of them has ever made him offer more than he could, they never tried to make him give in or correspond it, or even answer ― they freed him from himself and the stagnation that his life would’ve turned into, and Kihyun never thanked them for it.

But it’s too late now. Too late to get back, too late to take back everything he said and everything he did. And, even if he _does_ regret it, what can he do about it? Kihyun wasted so much time hiding and pretending that, now, maybe everything _won’t_ be more than an illusion.

It’s too late to fix broken wings and the dream left behind.

 

When Kihyun completes twenty four years of life, everything he lived sounds as confusing, lost memories ― as a time that won’t ever come back, as something that won’t ever be able to be put into a book or into words, because that’s not how it works, because there’s no way of expressing yourself when everything you want and everything you feel and everything you _are_ was left behind, being a lie or not, to never be searched or found again.

The regret is bitter, sometimes. It sounds as a melodious laugh, as a discreet smile, as the warm eyes of the boy with a heart of gold and the delicate interlace of fingers of the boy whose soul was in the stars.

Kihyun cries. Cries because he feels too much, because he felt too little, cries for trying to pretend and run away and say that nothing ever mattered, because he lied and hid. Cries for all the truths never said and for all the things he wanted to tell and never did, for fear, for pride, for despair.

 _Survival,_ they say, because everything else stops being important.

 _Survival,_ because it’s everything that remains.

  


The last impression is the break of the wave.

It’s unexpected, sudden and _violent._

  


Papers and pens and words ― everything spreads around Kihyun, on the ground, falling over puddles of water and mud that the autumn’s rain left behind, as sea foam over the sand.

“Damn it! Don’t you look at where you’re going?!”

And then he hears it: the melodious laugh, loud as in every time he could hear it inside his head, as in every time he could almost hear it _around_ him, almost present, almost real. Kihyun never reacted so fast in his entire life: he lifts his eyes up and ― once he recognizes the smile, once he recognizes the face that so many times haunted him, that he so many times saw reflected on his own reflex in the mirror ―, in the next moment, his arms are around the other boy, surrounding him, his face pressed against his chest.

“You’re real.” he says, and his hands are shaking, his heart beating wildly and lungs _burning._ As if he’s emerging, finally, after a too long time under the water. “Real. You ― I didn’t imagine you. You’re real.”

 _Real._ _Touchable. Real._ Breathing and hugging him back and _living._

Hoseok laughs ― his lips pink, features softening, eyes full of care and _inviting,_ warm as the feeling that always swallows Kihyun when he thinks about the boy with a heart of gold and the dream of reaching the stars.

“Hey, stranger. We were searching for you. How have you been?”

Kihyun starts laughing. A sob interrupts him.

Only _then_ he starts crying.

 

(Shin Hoseok’s lips taste like summer.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any question/request/desire to talk about anything, you can contact me here, [ tumblr](http://firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin.tumblr.com/), [ twitter](https://twitter.com/notmadetobeheld) or [ curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notmadetobeheld) :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Every time we got close he ran away. I don’t want that again. If I let him in, if I _feel_ it like I did, like we did before ― he’ll leave. He’ll leave, and both of us will be alone again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yAY, ANOTHER UPDATE \o  
> that's the last before monday because tomorrow's a friend's birthday and she'll do a sleepover at her house, so (」°ロ°)」  
>  ~~also because I have a few other things to do but sçalkdaskalsç~ I think I may know where I'm going with this~~
> 
> Hope you enjoy! \o3o/

Jooheon has an unreadable expression when he sees them together. Kihyun worries ― worries because he left and never looked back, worries because he saw how much he hurt them and even then insisted on giving up on their bond. If the younger’s mad at him ― if he’s mad, if he’s upset and angry and doesn’t want to see him anymore ―, Kihyun will understand. He’ll understand and he’ll accept, because even though it wasn’t his intention, he  _ did _ hurt both of them.

Hoseok’s always been prone to forgive and forget, but Kihyun knows that it’s not how it works for Jooheon. The younger has always had trouble bonding, connecting with other people ― Kihyun knows he didn’t make it better, he knows he left him in the worst way possible and basically threw out the window everything they had since they were nine.

So Kihyun waits for some sort of rejection, he waits for sad eyes and a dejected look and for Jooheon to give Hoseok a betrayed stare and get back inside, leaving them alone. Kihyun waits for the anger, the bitterness, he waits for Jooheon to react badly and tell him to leave immediately, because he won’t ever forgive him for what Kihyun did. It makes his stomach churn in discomfort and his hands shake with anxiety, expectation crawling all way up to his throat and making him feel a bit suffocated. At his side, keeping a firm hand at Kihyun’s back, Hoseok’s a bit rigid, looking from one to another with a worried frown, as if expecting for someone to break the tension.

And then ― then Jooheon’s shoulders drop, and his features soften, and his eyes well up with tears. His lips are trembling when he turns them upwards, and his dimples show off, and suddenly there’s a heavy weight being taken off Kihyun’s chest. Before he knows what he’s doing, he frees himself from Hoseok’s hold and crosses the distance to Jooheon, wrapping his arms around the younger boy.

Jooheon’s warm, and he slumps on Kihyun’s arms with little to none resistance, burying his head against the crook of Kihyun’s neck. It feels good in a weird kind of way ― Kihyun never really thought about hugging neither Jooheon nor Hoseok, and the sensation’s different to say the least. The younger sniffles and nuzzles against his skin, holding him close, caging him onto his arms, as if he’s afraid Kihyun will leave, as if he’s afraid he’s just dreaming.

Kihyun holds him back, as gentle as possible, and caresses Jooheon’s hair with love. Hoseok ― who’s always been the touchy type ― soon decides it’s safe to also get into the hug, wrapping his arms around both of them and letting out a small, breathy laugh.

“That feels so strange.” he says, and nuzzles on Jooheon’s hair, sighing contently. “Can we stay like that forever?”

Jooheon’s the first to laugh, body shaking with the intensity of it, and it’s so  _ different _ from what Kihyun remembers, so  _ bright _ and  _ beautiful _ ― so  **warm.** He laughs along, and Hoseok smiles at both of them, his eyes glowing in happiness and satisfaction.

When Jooheon sobs, and tears start rolling down his cheeks, Kihyun holds him close, fingers wiping away the water droplets, and leans in to press their foreheads together.

“It’s okay.” he says, softly, fingers caressing the boy’s cheeks, and presses a kiss at the tip of the younger’s nose. “It’s okay.”

Jooheon’s smile is the most beautiful thing Kihyun’s ever seen.

 

 

It’s surprisingly  _ easy _ to fall into a routine with them ― Hoseok’s affectionate, Jooheon’s eager to please, Kihyun’s willing to try his best.

It’s surprisingly  _ hard _ to stop the feeling that something bad’s just waiting at the corner to pick them by surprise.

 

The wave (the impression) never leaves ― because the sea doesn’t stop existing once the wave breaks, the ocean doesn’t disappear. Once the wave breaks, another comes, bigger than the last one,  _ stronger than ever. _

There’s only so much instinct can do to save you. There’s only so much anyone can do while trying to fight the flow.

And Kihyun learns it the hard way.

 

It doesn’t come back slowly. It doesn’t come back as a gradual transition.

It hits him ― it hits  _ them  _ ― as another break of a wave.

Kihyun and Hoseok are taken in the moment where it starts.

Jooheon’s not.

Not exactly.

  
  


Kihyun runs as if his life depends on it, not minding the rain pouring down his body, and the loud panic stricking through his guts makes him want to let the groceries slip from his fingers, just so he can stop worrying about whether they’re going to fall or not. Left, right, left again.

He sees the cream walls and the big windows and the yellow lights, and there’s a lump in his throat. Kihyun’s legs feel numb and his lungs are burning from running all the way home, but he doesn’t stop, hands fumbling, shaking to get the keys. His heart’s beating desperately inside his ribcage, and his lips are trembling, eyes welling up with tears.

It shouldn’t be like that. It shouldn’t be like that.  _ It shouldn’t _ ―

He bumps into Hoseok on the corridor. The melted brown eyes ― usually so full of warmth and love and happiness ― are now filled with despair, and Kihyun’s starting to feel nauseated with the hurricane of feelings bursting through his chest and making his head spin. He tries to take a deep breath, knowing that his own total lack of self-control isn’t making things any better, but finds himself unable to calm down.

The apartment is silent, and Kihyun abandons the groceries on the floor as soon as they enter, Hoseok not able to wait for him before sprinting towards their room, Kihyun right on his heels.

Jooheon’s been there since it started ― legs pressed against his chest, head between his knees, taking deep, ragged breaths, and the fear that burns through his entire body and makes him shake uncontrollably is like nothing Kihyun’s ever seen before. He’s crying, warm tears rolling down his cheeks, dripping on his jeans ― his sobs are choked up, breathless, and Kihyun almost trips over his own feet in the rush to get to him.

Hoseok wraps his arms around the younger’s shoulders, and Kihyun doesn’t even wait for him to hold Jooheon properly before pressing his face against the boy’s back and hugging both him and Hoseok. Jooheon’s breath hitches and he makes a choked sound, needing to lift his head up so he can try and breath, but the sobs that break through his chest and mouth don’t make it any better. His cheeks and nose are crimson red, his eyes are puffy and closed, irritated at the corners from where he’s been rubbing to try and stop the tears, and his lips are pale, trembling.

Kihyun wants to hold him. He wants to hold him, and kiss him, and protect him from all the demons inside his head. But, as he can’t do all of it, he nuzzles on the space between Jooheon’s shoulders, and presses a kiss at the back of his neck, and rocks him back and forth while Hoseok talks, quietly, so,  _ so quietly, _ his voice warm and careful and soothing, and Jooheon cries harder.

It takes a while to calm him down. He can’t breath, and it seems like every time he tries to say something, a stronger wave of panic hits him, and he shrinks into Hoseok’s and Kihyun’s embrace, whimpering. Kihyun doesn’t notice he’s crying along until Hoseok starts talking with him too, rubbing his shoulders and caressing his hair, pushing both him and Jooheon closer, so he can snuggle against Jooheon’s hair and keep Kihyun under his care all the while. And then ― when Jooheon finally manages to inhale without choking on his sobs, without choking on air, when he finally finds the strength to hold onto Hoseok’s shirt, his fingers shaky and his knuckles white ―, the whole room goes silent.

Hoseok’s hand is gentle when he lifts Jooheon’s chin to press their foreheads together, and Kihyun presses his chest against the younger’s back so he can lie his head on the boy’s shoulder. Jooheon’s eyelids flutter, as if he’s fighting not to open his eyes, and none of the olders presses the matter.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Hoseok asks, kindly, and Jooheon immediately stops trying to keep his eyes closed.

Small, newly-formed tears roll down his full cheeks all the while, silently, and Kihyun turns his head just a bit so he can press his lips against them and rub the tip of his nose along the line of Jooheon’s jawline. The younger takes in a deep, shaky breath, and the lack of any kind of verbal answer is enough for Hoseok to know that he doesn’t want to talk about it just yet.

“Cuddle?” the older offers, and his features soften into a pleased smile once Jooheon doesn’t even think before nodding. “Okay.”

Though he agrees, they take a moment to find in themselves the strength to move. Kihyun’s the first, as it’s easier for him, not having anyone basically lying over him, but that doesn’t mean he  _ wants _ to do it. Jooheon’s the next, still shaking, and he sniffles a bit. Hoseok takes a moment to look at them, features still a bit hard by his worry, but he soon follows.

And that’s when things start to go wrong.

Jooheon’s knees buckle. Kihyun tries to hold him. As soon as his fingers touch the younger’s elbow, the boy throws himself against Hoseok ― who just stood up, and almost trips over himself and falls on the floor once more ―, burying his head on the older’s chest and wrapping his arms around him. Almost as if he didn’t want to be touched by the other. Almost ― almost as if he was  _ afraid. _

A wave of insecurity rips through Kihyun’s chest. His hands freeze on mid-air. Hoseok’s eyes are wide, smile dropping from his lips as fast as it came. Jooheon doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t stop hiding his face against the older’s chest, doesn’t let go off his shirt. There’s a (long, terrifying) moment of silence, and then Kihyun’s shoulders start relaxing, he retreats his hands back to himself, and Hoseok’s eyes soften.

“Get him to bed.” Kihyun says, using the most gentle tone he can. “I’ll ― put the groceries in the fridge and ― find us something to eat.”

“Okay.” Hoseok says, and his eyes are warming up to him once more, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Okay, I ― I’ll do that.”

Kihyun gives him the warmest smile he manages to keep, trying not to let it show how much it hurts.

Hoseok knows it’s nothing but a lie.

Against his chest, Jooheon starts sobbing again.

 

That night, Kihyun has trouble sleeping.

Jooheon’s safely tucked under Hoseok’s arms, and the older’s between them, all three under two pairs of blankets, lights out, and the sound of rain on the outside. Kihyun has his back against Hoseok, not because the other didn’t want to hold him, but because he doesn’t want to make Jooheon uncomfortable.

The other didn’t  _ say it, _ but he also didn’t need to. Kihyun’s not about to force him, and neither is Hoseok. If Jooheon needs time, Kihyun can give him time ― if he needs distance… They’ll make it work. Somehow.

“I’m scared.”

Jooheon’s voice snaps Kihyun out of his thoughtful state, curiosity washing over him when he notices Hoseok and the other were  talking all this time. Jooheon’s still a faint presence at the back of his mind, a dull burning ache that makes him want to crawl out of his skin. Hoseok is a softer presence ― warm and solid, easy to deal with. He makes Kihyun (and Jooheon, if the way the boy’s clinging onto Hoseok is anything to go by) feel safe.

“Why?” Hoseok’s voice is calm, and Kihyun can  _ see _ his fingers gently playing with Jooheon’s hair, trying to give him some confidence to talk about what happened earlier. “What are you scared of?”

Jooheon takes in a deep, shaky breath, and Kihyun has to fight back the urge to roll over and hug him. It doesn’t matter what he thinks or what he feels ― if Jooheon doesn’t want him to do it ― if Jooheon’s afraid, if Jooheon doesn’t want Kihyun to touch him ―, he  _ won’t. _ That’s it. End of the story.

“Every time we got close he ran away.” Kihyun can hear him sniffling, and feel Hoseok’s careful thumbs swiping over the tears rolling down Jooheon’s face. “I don’t ― I don’t want that again. If ― if I let him in, if I ― if I  _ feel _ it like I did, like we did before ― he’ll leave. He’ll leave and ― both of us will be alone again.”

Kihyun stops breathing. Hoseok goes rigid. For a moment, the only sounds in the room are Jooheon’s quiet sniffles ― even the rain out there doesn’t seem so important anymore. Hoseok’s at a loss of words, and Kihyun’s eyes sting with tears he doesn’t want to shed.

“Jooheon ―”

Hoseok’s voice fails him. Kihyun’s hit with a wave of uneasiness, fear and choked up feelings crawling up his throat and making him suddenly nauseated. Hoseok’s hands are shaking. Jooheon pushes them away when the older tries to touch him, and Kihyun’s heart sinks painfully to his stomach.

“Don’t.” Kihyun can hear the regret in Jooheon’s voice, as if he thinks he shouldn’t ― couldn’t ― have said what he said. “I thought ― I thought you would ― I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess things up.”

“You didn’t, I ―”

“It's okay.” Jooheon cuts him off, and his tone is surprisingly  _ soft. _ Kihyun feels as if there’s something wrong with it. “I understand.”

But he doesn’t. If the fear and despair rising through Hoseok’s ― Kihyun’s ― guts is anything to go by, he  _ definitely _ doesn’t. Kihyun’s scared. He’s scared that Jooheon might be right, he’s scared he might get the wrong idea and leave them behind again, this time for real ― more than that, he’s scared he  _ won’t.  _ He’s scared he won’t leave them, he’s scared he’ll  _ accept _ them, because that would mean  _ accept himself, _ it would mean he’ll  _ stay, _ and Kihyun’s not ― he’s not sure he’d be able to deal with it.

Proving Jooheon wrong would mean proving  _ himself _ wrong, and Kihyun’s scared.

What he’s supposed to  _ do? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any question/request/desire to talk about anything, you can contact me here, [ tumblr](http://firewasntmadetobeheldinhumanskin.tumblr.com/), [ twitter](https://twitter.com/notmadetobeheld) or [ curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/notmadetobeheld) (◕‿◕)♡


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fIRST OF ALL I'd like to say that I didn't intend to get this kind-of-but-not-exactly hiatus. So, sORRY FOR THAT D:
> 
> Second:::::::: I'm on college. YAY. YES. THIS IS IT. ~~omgsomebodyhelpmepls~~ so q idk. I just wanted to share \o (if you happen to read any of my other unfinished stories:::: hANG IN THERE. I'LL FINISH THEM. I'm still writing, and I won't abandon anything. I just q focused a bit on this bingo during my free time. gUESS WHO BELIEVES THEY'LL BE ABLE TO FINISH IT IN TIME. YAY. THAT ME.)
> 
> And I think that's it ಠ_ಠ  
> Hope you like it! (」°ロ°)」

The next morning isn’t easy.

Hoseok’s all tense, his shoulders rigid and his eyes wary. He looks tired and honestly lost, his lips pressed in a thin, worried line. Kihyun didn’t sleep well ― actually, he barely slept at all ―, and exhaustion’s creeping onto his bones like a venomous snake, making his eyelids heavy and his body numb. Jooheon is ― surprisingly okay for someone who spent the whole night in the couch.

They don’t talk. Breakfast is quiet, Jooheon keeps his eyes down, Hoseok watches them sorrowfully, Kihyun’s too tired to try and make things better. Wasn’t it supposed to be easier? Weren’t they supposed to get along, and share things that make them troubled? Kihyun feels betrayed, and it’s not even  _ funny _ ― he should know that sooner or later something like that was bound to happen, that nothing  _ ever _ stays okay for long enough for him to enjoy it truly, properly, like he should’ve done since the start.  He never wanted to hurt anyone, he never purposefully tried to cause them any pain, and now he’s feeling even worse.

And the worst part? The worst part is knowing that he  _ fucking deserves it. _ He  _ deserves _ their distrust, he deserves Jooheon thinking that he’ll just turn away and leave them behind, without looking back ― after all, he did it once, what can guarantee he won’t do it again? Hoseok, though a bit naive, though a bit careless, always made sure to let both Kihyun and Jooheon know that he’d be by their side for as long as they’d let him, sometimes even if they didn’t; and Jooheon, though far more quiet than the older, always offered comfort and care, soft words and cheering when they needed.

_ What did Kihyun do? _ What did he do to make them trust him, to  _ deserve _ their trust? He can’t think of anything. He was always being grumpy and complaining and saying rude things ― mostly to Hoseok, but whatever. How can he expect them to just  _ leave it behind _ and call it a day?

Kihyun groans and stares pitifully at his bowl of cereal. How can he make things better? How can he  _ earn _ their trust, how can he their trust, how can he not fuck things up for real this time? He’s just so ― he doesn’t want to ―

“Ki?” Jooheon’s voice is quiet, tentative, and a pang of guilty shots through Kihyun’s chest. Damn. He forgot that, even if it’s damaged by Jooheon’s fear, the bond’s still strong, and therefore the younger knows that there’s something bothering him to the point where it comes to physical discomfort. “Is there anything wrong?”

Hoseok’s worried eyes are focused on him now. He irradiates sadness, and it makes Kihyun’s stomach churn painfully. He takes in a deep breath, lowering his gaze again.

He should tell. He  _ knows _ he should tell, but ― how can he? It’s selfish. It’s selfish, and Kihyun would never forgive himself if he made them break apart for reasons that shouldn’t even matter. He looks at Jooheon, and the younger’s eyes are so careful, so caring and full of love, and he ― he  _ can’t.  _ He can’t lie, but he can’t tell the truth either.

“I’m tired.” is what he says, and tries to give the boy a sheepish smile, even though his lips are trembling, even though his hands are shaking and his chest feels heavy. “I just ― didn’t sleep well, I guess?”

Hoseok’s not pleased with the answer: he presses his lips into a thin line, his eyebrows furrowing together and his features hardening a bit, not at all happy with the words he’s just heard. Jooheon’s gaze, however, softens, and he sighs before letting his shoulders relax a bit.

“You should rest today.” he says, cautiously, almost as if afraid Kihyun will snap at him for even suggesting such a thing. “I know you have a deadline, but… You really should take some time and rest.”

Kihyun doesn’t usually take advices like that lightly ― it’s not that he doesn’t know the intent is good, he’s just not  _ used _ to listen. Kihyun doesn’t like when people try to tell him what to do, even when they meant well. Jooheon knows that. Hoseok knows that. They ― heard,  _ felt _ him for long enough to understand.

But if he’s not ― if he’s not at least willing to try, then _why is he here?_ Why is he living with them? Why is he giving them ― _hope?_ _Why?_

“Okay.” Kihyun breathes out, and his shoulders drop. “Okay.”

Jooheon stares at him, blinks in surprise. Hoseok’s a spot of warmness and happiness, even more so when he leans in and carefully wraps his fingers around Kihyun’s wrist, thumbs caressing his skin softly.

And Kihyun feels ―  _ uncomfortable. _

If the smile he gives them is full of guilt, no one says a thing.

  
  


The week doesn’t go as smoothly as Kihyun was expecting for it to be.

He doesn’t know if it has something to do with the heavy weight on his shoulders of it it’s the choked up feeling crawling up his throat. Jooheon’s trying to make things easier ― he still treats him as he did before, he still cuddles against his side on the couch (or the bed) when Kihyun’s reading and he feels particularly clingy. Hoseok’s trying his best at not letting his worry show up all the time, but it’s something so clear in his eyes ― how he moves and how he talks, how he’s constantly lost in thought, eyebrows furrowed together, lips pressed in a thin line or being bitten ―, it causes Kihyun’s heart to drop painfully every time he does as much as think about what must be going through the older’s head.

And Kihyun is ― he’s  _ trying, _ he thinks. He’s trying not to freak out, he’s trying not to make thins worse, he’s trying not to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. It’s not ― it’s not  _ easy. _ Most of the time, when Jooheon’s smile falters or Hoseok’s eyes get sad, he feels as if he’s just  _ failing miserably, _ and Kihyun’s never been good at dealing with failure.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with us, Ki?” Hoseok asks, maybe for the millionth time in the spam of twenty minutes, and it’s starting to get on Kihyun’s nerves. “It’ll be nice, I promise. We won’t take long to get back home.”

“Look.” Kihyun sighs, and Hoseok immediately shuts up, watching him carefully. “I need to finish this, okay? For real. If I finish it in time, I’ll try and find you two; if not, I’ll just stay here. Does that sound nice to you?”

Hoseok can hear the angry pitch in Kihyun’s voice, and he’s clearly not up to fight. He nods solemnly, and doesn’t say anything else. Kihyun scowls a bit, picks up his notebook again and tries to focus on his task. It’s all going smoothly and nicely until, a few minutes later, Jooheon comes from their room, humming happily and failing to notice Hoseok’s wary gaze.

“Hey, hyung!” Jooheon taps Kihyun’s shoulders gently. “Do you wanna come with us? It’ll be fun, promise! Hoseok hyung and I were thinking about ―”

Kihyun slams down the notebook, and Jooheon stops talking, retreating his hands to himself, looking a bit scared. Hoseok opens his mouth to stop the upcoming storm, but he’s not fast enough with his words.

“Stop being annoying, will you?! I already said I’m not going, damn it!”

It’s not his choice of words but rather the anger laced onto his tone, the venom dripping from his voice that seems to startle the other two. Kihyun has maybe a second or two to think about what he just said, realization dawning upon him like bucklet of freezing water, but no time at all to take it back.

Hoseok stares at him with wide eyes, caught off guard by his sudden outburst, and Jooheon ― Jooheon’s  _ terrified. _ He takes a step back, pale as a sheet, and his lips are trembling, his shoulders tense, tears slowly starting to form in his eyes. Kihyun ― feels guilty.

Did he have to be so stupid? Did he have to be so  _ angry _ over something so simple? (Did he have to treat Jooheon so badly?)

The answer is no.

No, he didn’t.

Jooheon sniffles quietly. It’s a sad, low sound, and Kihyun’s heart breaks painfully at what he just did. Hoseok’s a spot of sorrow and disappointment at the back of his mind, and it makes Kihyun want to crawl out of his skin; even more so when Jooheon swallows loudly.

“Okay.” he says, and his voice’s so  _ small, _ so fragile. “Okay. I’ll stop bothering you.”

When he turns away and leaves, Hoseok gives Kihyun a final glance ― anger barely there, drowned by raw, desperate disappointment ― before following right behind, calling the maknae in a caring tone, trying to make him a little less upset at the whole deal.

Kihyun can’t help but feel as if the story’s repeating itself.

It makes him want to cry. It makes him want to crawl.

(It makes him want to leave.)

  
  


He thinks about it for a while. The idea floats around his mind for a lot of time, taunting him, mocking him, making him feel miserable. It makes him want to get rid of the heavy feeling inside his chest, the lump in his throat, the tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

Kihyun’s not good at dealing with this kind of thing. He’s not good at dealing with the raw, aching need pumping through his veins, crawling under his skin. Before he can even think about what he’s doing, Kihyun’s inside their room, packing up his things.

It’s overwhelming.

It makes him shake, trembling fingers failing to hold things, and everything’s constantly falling, his hands too slow to keep it, his reactions too delayed for him to be able to stop the fall. Kihyun’s vision is blurred, hot tears streaming down his face, and it’s hard to focus., it’s hard to breath, and he presses his hands into fists against his chest, fingers clutching desperately at his shirt, expecting to feel his heart beating as hard as the loud thundering in his ears. He wants to leave.  _ Oh, god, he wants to leave. They trust him, and he wants to leave. _

How can they trust him? How can he  _ expect _ them to trust him? Kihyun’s not ― he’s not  _ worth it. _ He’ll let them down again. He’ll make them sad again. He’ll leave, and  _ both of them will be alone again. _

Kihyun cries. He falls to his knees, and covers his ears, and cries. It’s been a long time since he last cried, and Kihyun finds in himself that he’s not strong enough to push it away again. It hurts. It hurts more than he thought it would, more than he thought it’s possible, and there’s no way to stop it. So he cries ― he cries his heart out, loud, shameless, desperate. He cries until there’s no more tears to cry, until his throat hurts and his eyes burn, until all his body feels numb and there’s no pain anymore.

And then there’s nothing. He’s lying on the floor, curled up, hugging his knees very close to himself, breath raspy and loud. There’s a burning ache inside his chest, a pressure coming from his lungs, from his ribs, making him feel like suffocating, a few tears still escaping his eyes, dropping rhytmic to the ground, tip-tip-tip. Kihyun can’t move. He tries to turn around, to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, but his body doesn’t even twich, arms and legs refusing to obey.

He draws a long, shaky breath, and closes his eyes.

Only then he notices he’s alone ― completely, utterly alone, no other feeling inside his chest beside the emptiness, the raw aching pain that comes with exhaustion, threatening to swallow him whole. He breathes in slowly, and the oxygen filling his lungs is like a bucket of cold water to his face.

Kihyun wishes he could disappear.

  
  


He doesn’t know how much time passes between the moment where he closes his eyes and the moment gentle hands lift him up, bringing him closer to a warm chest. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know it’s Hoseok, the care and worry the other feels making a comforting feeling settle down on his chest, and Kihyun lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“Is he okay?”

Jooheon’s voice is a soft whisper, and he sounds so close to tears that guilt immediately crawls on Kihyun’s guts, making him fight his heavy eyelids and turn his face a bit, to try and open his eyes, to soothe the boy’s worry and make him feel better. Jooheon’s eyes are rimmed red and full of unshed tears, and his lower lip is trembling the same way it does when he’s about to start crying.

“Hey.” Kihyun’s voice is hoarse, weak, and both Jooheon and Hoseok immediately turn their eyes on him, making him try and give them a kind smile.

_ I’m sorry, _ is what he wants to say.  _ I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you ― any of you. I didn’t want to be like that. I’m sorry I’m fucking everything up. _ But he doesn’t have the chance to do so, because Hoseok beats him to it.

“You worried us so much.” the older presses his head onto Kihyun’s hair, fingers tight around him, voice low and breaking at the end.

“I thought you were ―” Jooheon stops, looks down, takes a shaky breath and approaches, his arms surrounding Hoseok, resting his head on Kihyun’s shoulder and breathing slowly, sniffling quietly. “Please, don’t do that again. Please.”

Kihyun has no idea what he’s talking about, but he knows what it  _ could _ be. He was about to leave again, even after everything. He was about to do exactly what Jooheon feared he would, exactly what none of them  _ wanted _ him to do. And he feels bad about it. He feels bad about it because, even though he didn’t promise anything, even though he didn’t say anything about staying, about never leaving, both of them believed he would.

“I’m sorry.” he says, even though he’s not sure why he’s apologizing anymore. He’s not entirely sure he even  _ knows _ what he’s apologizing for. “I ― I didn’t mean to.”

_ I didn’t mean to be like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry. _

Jooheon sniffles. Hoseok tightens his hold on Kihyun.

“It’s okay.” the youngest of them mumbles, and he presses a soft kiss to Kihyun’s temple. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not. Kihyun knows it’s not.

And he has no idea what to do to make it better.

  
  


Later, things are not different.

Kihyun doesn’t know what it is ― Jooheon’s hands are careful, running through his hair slowly, too slowly, trying to make him relax enough to sleep, and Hoseok’s wrapped around them both, pressed against Kihyun’s back, his hands around Jooheon’s waist. It should ― it should make him feel  _ better. _

But it doesn’t. It doesn’t.

Kihyun feels alone.

And he ― he doesn’t like to be alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Jooheon never had many friends.

He doesn’t know how to explain it, he has no idea why it happened, or how. Since a young age, he was labelled as many things: momma’s boy, strange, freak. The other kids were mean, sure, but that doesn’t mean Jooheon didn’t get affected by them. He didn’t have any friends until the age of nine, when both Hoseok and Kihyun came into his life.

Hoseok was ― and still is ― the brightest person Jooheon ever met. He’s all careful, warm smiles, loving hugs and caring hands. And Kihyun ― is a bit more complicated than that. Jooheon’s always been aware that Kihyun and Hoseok share a story that comes _way_ before him, but that doesn’t mean he was _expecting_ for the other to treat him like he did ― like he still does.

And it’s not like Jooheon was expecting a warm welcome, easy smiles and love at first sight, of course not. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but certainly it wasn’t ― it wasn’t _that._ Kihyun’s never treated him badly, not before the other day, but he never treated him like he treats Hoseok. And Jooheon feels like an intruder, because, sometimes, that’s exactly what he is, what he’s been since the start. He’s an intruder when Hoseok and Kihyun share looks of intimacy, when they say something and stare at each other for a moment before laughing about an internal joke; he’s an intruder when Hoseok’s eyes get filled with fondness and he talks to Kihyun so softly, so kindly, so full of love; he’s even more of an intruder when Kihyun writes Hoseok poems, when Hoseok draws him flowers, when they sit together and cuddle in cold rainy days.

And Jooheon ― he knows he’s not what Kihyun wanted him to be. He knows that, if it was just Hoseok, if it was just who Kihyun truly wants, it wouldn’t be so complicated. But he’s ― he’s not. Kihyun doesn’t want him. Kihyun doesn’t like him, not early as much as he likes Hoseok and Jooheon… He understands it. He does, really. There’s no way anyone would love him ― _him, Lee Jooheon_ ― as much as they love Hoseok.

Hoseok is bright. He’s like the sun and the stars and the whole fucking universe. He’s kind, and gentle, and the best person Jooheon will ever meet. He’s not sad at not being able to be compared to the older, but ― but he wishes Kihyun could see good things about him too, the same way he sees all the gentleness and insecurity Kihyun tries to hide with grumpiness and bad moods.

But Kihyun won’t. He won’t see him, he won’t even try ― he won’t give Jooheon a chance, he didn’t before, he won’t do it now. And Jooheon ― he feels sad about it. He’s trying. He tried before, before the whole separation thing, before years of self-hatred and fear of being judged, and then baring his bones and soul for someone who didn’t want to see him, who turned away and left without looking back, without even thinking twice about it. And the other night ― when Kihyun blocked him away, when the only way for Jooheon to know he was _hurting_ was because Hoseok panicked and started hurting too ―, Jooheon really thought everything was coming to an end.

And he was _scared._ He was _fucking terrified._

He never understood why Kihyun refuses to let him in.

He still doesn’t understand ― but he thinks he might be getting it now.

Thing is: Kihyun will never love him, no matter how much Jooheon wishes he did.

  


They don’t get back to acting normal with each other after everything, not like Jooheon was hoping they would, at least. Hoseok’s always worried now, a permanent frown on his face. He talks lowly, he never leaves, and his eyes are always searching for both Jooheon and Kihyun. He never says much, and, when he does, his voice is always careful, as if he’s afraid he’ll hurt one of them if he talks any louder. And Kihyun ― Kihyun traight up avoids Jooheon, always finding a way to escape when they’re so much as about to share the same room. It comes to the point where he’s so _obvious_ about it that Jooheon himself starts avoiding the other, not wanting to bother him even more. The regret, so clear, so raw and strong, makes Jooheon feel even worse.

Does Kihyun blame him? If so, why? Jooheon didn’t want to make them break, didn’t want to cause them to fall apart. He didn’t do anything, he didn’t ― he didn’t _try_ to make them drift apart. It’s not his _fault._ Jooheon didn’t want everything to go wrong, he didn’t mean to mess everything up. But then, again, it’s not like he can _control_ his emotions.

_Why does he feel so guilty?_

  


“You need to stop this.”

Jooheon’s hand freezes on the doorknob. He considers turning away and leaving, letting Hoseok and Kihyun to talk alone. He almost does it, ready to let them talk about whatever they want to, but Kihyun’s answer makes him stop dead in tracks.

“I can’t.” his voice is weak. “Jooheon ― he won’t understand.”

Curiosity flares up Jooheon’s guts, and he approaches the door quietly, breathing slowly, afraid that the lightest sound will make them aware of his presence. He knows he shouldn’t do that, he shouldn’t hear a conversation where he’s not meant to be. He sighs inaudibly and presses his forehead against the door, paying close attention to all the minimal sounds on the other side.

“You can’t do that to him!” there’s anger in Hoseok’s voice, the fiery type, his tone edging fury ― it’s something Jooheon’s never heard before, and it makes fear crawl into his vains, a pressure into his chest, a lump forming in his throat. “He doesn’t deserve this bullshit!”

“I can’t stand him!”

Jooheon takes a step back so fast he almost trips over his own feet, eyes wide and heart beating wildly inside his chest. Kihyun ― can’t stand him? And Hoseok ― he _knows_ it? _He knew it before?_ How ― Jooheon _trusted_ them. _Both of them._ He knows it’s not his fault. He didn’t ― _he didn’t do anything wrong._ He didn’t. He ― did he?

His breath comes out raspy and loud. Jooheon hits his back on the wall, and tries to focus on his heartbeat, tries to cling onto something, to calm down, to do _something._ It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work and he ― he starts panicking, despair flaring up in his chest, spreading through his body like wild fire. Jooheon can’t breath. No matter how hard he tries to push the air in, not enough oxygen seems to fill his lungs, and soon he finds himself gasping, in complete panic for he can’t get enough air, he can’t feel the tip of his fingers, his body slowly getting numb.

If asked about it, Jooheon wouldn’t know to explain how ― or when ― he got in the ground, hands covering his ears, heart beating wildly inside his chest. It hurts. It hurts to the point where he doesn’t know anymore if he’s crying out of despair or out of pain. It hurts to the point where he closes his eyes and curls onto himself, sobbing non-stop.

And he’s so deep in his panic-induced he fails to notice when both Hoseok and Kihyun get to him, their hands soothing, their voices worried. Jooheon doesn’t react to them, he can barely see them, and the duo shares a look of despair. Hoseok’s the first to do something, his hands holding the younger carefully, bringing him closer to his body, gently pressing Jooheon’s head against his chest, hands reaching the younger’s, fingers pressed onto the boy’s. He’s talking quietly, his tone warm, rocking him back and forth. Kihyun takes action right after, wrapping his arms around Jooheon’s waist and resting his head against the boy’s shoulder blades, breathing slowly and mumbling comforting words.

They smell like home. Hoseok smells like water paint and the flowers he insists on keeping in his studio. Kihyun’s stronger, his cologne impregnated on him like a charm, peach shampoo and the floral soap Hoseok teased him about when they were younger. Jooheon inhales sharply, and fire rips through his lungs, making him shrink into Hoseok’s embrace, sobbing.

“Shhhh.” the older hums sweetly, and presses a soft kiss at the top of the boy’s head, resting a hand on Jooheon’s back and rubbing comforting circles over his shirt. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay, I promise.”

He’s a liar. Jooheon feels hurt, lips quivering, tears running down his cheeks non-stop. Hoseok’s lying, and he doesn’t get _why._ Is it to make him feel better? Is it to make him more of a fool than he’s being since they met? Jooheon doesn’t know, and he wishes he didn’t care. It’d make things better, it’d cause him less pain.

“Stop lying to me.” he pleads, voice hoarse, almost inaudible, but doesn’t open his eyes to look at them, a lump forming in his throat. “Please, stop lying to me.”

This way, he doesn’t see Hoseok and Kihyun sharing a confused, worried look.

“But ―” Hoseok stops, blinks slowly, runs his fingers through the younger’s hair. “But I’m not lying to you.”

Jooheon pushes away from him just so he can rub his eyes and stare at him, upset. Hoseok looks so honestly _confused,_ so honestly lost, the younger almost feels bat by accusing him of such a thing. And then he remembers the reason why he feels that way ― he thinks of all the times Hoseok said things only Kihyun could, would understand; he thinks of all the times Kihyun avoided him, didn’t cast him even a second glance ―, and his vision gets blurred with tears again.

“You are.” he says, very, very quietly, looking between Hoseok and Kihyun, whose eyes are focused on him, and only him. “You don’t love me. None of you do.”

At first, the silence he is met with makes Jooheon truly believe he’s right on his presumption, but then ― then Hoseok’s eyes get full of tears, and Kihyun’s so sincerely _pained_ that the younger can feel it in his _bones._ It’s his turn to get confused, biting his bottom lip to try and get rid of the desire to reach out for Hoseok and wipe away his tears.

“But I love you.” the older chokes out, voice breaking.

“You lie to me.” Jooheon sniffles and looks down to his hands, his trembling fingers. “You said hyung didn’t hate me when he went away.”

It always comes back to when Kihyun left for the first time. _Always._ Not because Jooheon can’t forgive him ― _he can_ ―, but because he can’t forget it. He can’t forget how it felt when Kihyun left ― how hurt, how upset, how _betrayed_ he was. Jooheon never expected Kihyun to _love_ him, he wasn’t delusional to that point, but he wanted the other to at least _like_ him. Since the start, Jooheon wanted so bad to open up to both of them, to get close, to feel like he _belonged_ somewhere; it was so easy to live with Hoseok, to believe he _cared,_ but Kihyun’s always been too far for Jooheon to reach him, too far for Jooheon to believe he could one day get close to him.

But he thought he would. _He thought he would._ Time made him open up slowly about how he felt, about what he wanted, about himself. He was a fool, and he _believed_ ― and Kihyun left them. Hoseok tried to be strong, but Jooheon could feel him; it’s always been much easier to understand Hoseok than it was to understand Kihyun. So, Jooheon came to the obvious conclusion: Kihyun always tried to block him. Since the start, when Jooheon came out of nowhere into his relationship with Hoseok, until the end, when he decided to ditch not only him, but also Hoseok. And the older said it wasn’t his fault, he said Kihyun didn’t hate him, but ― how can that be true, when the story’s repeating itself? Someone’s lying, and Jooheon knows it’s not him.

“I don’t hate you.” Kihyun’s voice is so soft, so quiet, Jooheon almost doesn’t hear him. “I never did.”

The younger chews on his bottom lip, fingers fidgeting with the brim of his shirt. He wants to cry, and he wants to get angry, but he can’t find it in himself the will to do any of these. There’s just ― sadness, and emptiness, and exhaustion.

“You said you can’t stand me.”

As soon as he finishes the sentence, Jooheon almost wishes he had just shut up. Kihyun’s whole face changes, eyes widening, and he opens his mouth to say something, but can’t seem to find the right words. His eyes start to water, and he brings a hand to cover his mouth, shoulders shaking with the effort not to cry. Jooheon stares at him in complete shock for a second, just a second, and, when cold tears start rolling down on Kihyun’s cheeks, he turns to Hoseok, despair growing inside his chest once more.

“What’s wrong? What ― what did I say wrong?”

Hoseok shakes his head, and reaches out to caress Jooheon’s face. Warmth floods the younger’s insides, and he’s confused. When Hoseok pushes him against his chest again, Jooheon doesn’t offer resistance, sniffling and rubbing his eyes once more, trying to understand what he did wrong, why Kihyun’s crying. Hoseok also wraps a gentle arm around the other’s shoulders, bringing him along, hugging both of them and sighing heavily, the tension leaving his body slowly. Jooheon reaches out to Kihyun’s face, and wipes away his tears with his thumbs.

“Why is hyung crying?” he asks, completely lost. “Did I do something? I’m sorry.”

Kihyun sniffles, and his lips are quivering, and he interlaces his fingers with Jooheon’s, squeezing them tightly, keeping the boy’s hand against his cheek.

“You got it all wrong.” he says, and, for a moment, Jooheon’s heart feels as if it’s about to break. “It’s not ― I love you. _I love you. Both_ of you. Please, don’t ever think I don’t.”

“But you said ―”

“I _know_ what I said.” noticing his fierce tone only causes Jooheon to shrink away in fear, Kihyun’s quick to soften his voice when adding: “You didn’t ― you didn’t hear the rest, did you? It’s not ― it’s not that I can’t stand _you._ I can’t ― I can’t stand you because I can’t stand to see what I did to you.”

Jooheon doesn’t ― he doesn’t understand.

“He’s trying to say he never meant to hurt you.” Hoseok mumbles, and his fingers run through Kihyun’s hair. “That he was scared.”

“And I still am.” Kihyun leans in on Hoseok’s touch, and his eyes are so open, so hurt and sincere, there’s no way Jooheon can doubt him. “I just ― I just don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m not ― I’m not good at it.”

“So, you…” Jooheon stops. “You avoid me ― because you want to protect me?”

Kihyun looks away, and his cheeks slowly start to get red.

“I’m not doing a good work, but ― yeah. That ― that was the idea.”

Jooheon can’t say that it magically fixes all his problems and all his fears, but he ― he thinks he might be able to understand it. With time. And patience. He reaches out to Kihyun, and pokes his cheek gently. The older looks up at him, and he seems ― surprised.

“I forgive you.” Jooheon inhales slowly, and bites his bottom lip again, tears blurring his vision. “But ― please, don’t do that again. Don’t ― you don’t need to tell me everything, but don’t let me think I will lose you again. Please.”

Kihyun offers him a trembling, tearful smile.

“I’ll try my best.”

It’s not a promise. It’s not.

But it may be. And Jooheon can live with that.

  


Things don’t change from day to night.

There’s a strangeness in the air, not tension per se, but an awkwardness every time they try not to follow the routine they’ve already created and followed for weeks straight. Kihyun’s more prone to try and change things between them, reaching out for Jooheon every time he has a chance to, interlacing their fingers or running a hand through the boy’s hair, caressing his cheeks and cuddling closer when he has the opportunity. Jooheon takes a while to get used to their new dynamics, usually getting tense at the start and relaxing as time passes and Kihyun doesn’t try to get rid of him.

It takes a while for him to start taking action by himself, though. Not because Kihyun won’t give him the liberty to do so, but because he doesn’t feel confident enough. Jooheon has a hard time initiating anything, not because he doesn’t trust Kihyun, but because he doesn’t trust _himself,_ and he doesn’t want to fuck everything up. The first time he reaches out to Kihyun, his hands are cold and his eyes are casted down, anxiety crawling inside his veins, and Jooheon’s one hundred percent sure the other will reject him. But then ― then Kihyun wraps their fingers together tightly, and, for a moment, everything feels alright.

Then Hoseok throws himself between them and complains half-heartedly about how they’re both all lovey-dovey with each other but not with him, wrapping his arms around their shoulders and squishing them against him, full of drama. Kihyun elbows him without any guilt, saying he’s too needy for his own good, Hoseok makes some more drama, Jooheon finds himself laughing at their antics.

And it’s okay. It’s okay.

  
  
(Kihyun kisses him for the first time that night ― warm, welcome, wholeheartedly ―, and it feels like coming home.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAY IT'S FINISHED.
> 
> That was such a long road for me, you don't even know. There were only 5 chapters, but, to me, having to finish it between classes and not sleeping enough at night, it felt like so much more ;-; and I'm happy to finish it <3
> 
> Hope you liked it! :D
> 
> I may or not may make a spin-off about a few things that I wanted but didn't get to write/put in there, but wELP. Won't promise anything.
> 
> See you later! <3


End file.
